Thursday, April 17, 2008

Caution: attempted impression of Joyce

Snap, crackle, and pop. Its milky ways gliding down the metal tundra until engulfed by whiteness. A white, white world empty. No pot of gold beyond the never-ending rainbow of poverty. It's not really a small world after all. The sweetness is gone. Milly thought it should taste the same, but what's a good glass Ovaltine without amor matris? Brown, chalky ant hills in a glass rim with no love. Pondering mother may I? Not even here to ask. Woe is she. Stumbling through a paradise lost, Milly thought when will the flood end. Just want the comfort of poured and stirred. Her there, easy approval. One shall overcome when the gain conquers the pain.

July 23rd the dress fell from the hanger. An empty silhouette is all that remains. Nothing to fill out the curves. No Marilyn Monroe can take her place. Life's a beach. The garlic ghoul approaches freshly doused from his bathroom venture. Break time. Seems like its been four score and seven years ago since emancipation. If only I had been Cleopatra, but it seems heavy hearts are always chained to tragic tales. No salve or herb can cure a daughter's loss. Chicken noodle soup should not come from a store bought can.

Pensare. Sognare. Ricordarsi. (Thinking. Dreaming. Remembering.)

Stephen: Don't worry about a thing cause every little thing is gonna be alright.

Screw Bob Marley the dredded hair man with 161 types of lice sharing his wisdom with the world. Life's dredded and this is one dred no shampoo can remedy. She's made her nest, its burrowed deep. Like gum lodged into the head of a schoolyard bully. Stuck and tangled.

Stephen: Lighten up. Mo money, mo problems.

Milly: Easy for you to say. Maybe if you'd stop wallowing in your own poetic piss you'd actually have a family at least.

Stephen: E tu Brutae. You'll never know the trouble I've seen.

Milly: Go back to your tower Rapunzel away from the world. Bullshit, love thy brother like thyself.

Bitterness hovers over the struggling Dedalus, as she reaches for the warmth of the sole son with extinguished flames. She's not here but that doesn't mean you can't be. Parting ways, Cain and Abel leave the hill neither dead nor alive, but it's purely a matter of survival of the fittest.

The shack in the distance, he proclaimed why me? The question reverberates through the Dedalus' collection of empty jars and stomachs neither of which possess a mouth that holds the answer. The riddle of the sphinx remains unsolved.

Bring Bring. Breaks over shrieks the garlic ghoul. Milly stumbles back into the factory along with the other mindless leprechauns returning to a day of packaged rice and cardboard boxes. No moment of clarity reached, she leaves the memory and returns to the nightmare. Once upon a time there was no happily ever after.

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